I want her to be my morning, and my sunset. I would wake up in the early morning and have her by my side. Not just physically.
I would work hard to make a living. And work hard to have her family on my side.
We would believe in the good parts of life. In the sturdyness of hiding in our own planetary galaxy. And she would be my sun and moon. Her family, relative constellations. And then our offspring, more bounty entering our lives. Multiplying the good parts of relations.
We would talk and eat. Everyday. And in the quiet, hold our hands. Then smile.
We wouldn’t be shipwrecked, in the middle of the ocean, with holes in the deck. Me, trying to pour the water out in buckets. Struggling to get to land, fighting for cooperation. Trying to keep afloat. Trusting that she would remain on this boat instead of seeing other ships in the distance and ready to sail with a different captain, willing to gouge my eyes out and do questionable things, like hanging out with other men in a life boat.
No.
I dumped her overboard. And that life boat will leave her away from our decrepid ship.
That boat was full of cobwebbed treasure with ripped up maps that led to damaged goods and booty.
I want her to be my morning and my sunset. Not washed up, dead along the shore.
Realistic Fiction
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